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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156115">Chains of Freedom</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crisplies/pseuds/Crisplies'>Crisplies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anxious Prompto Argentum, BAMF Prompto Argentum, Feral Behavior, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Poor Prompto Argentum, Protective Noctis Lucis Caelum, Sniper Prompto, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tired Cor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:08:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,218</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156115</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crisplies/pseuds/Crisplies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Magitek Unit NH-01987 began to develop a dark spot on his left forearm early during his incubation process in the artificial womb at Magitek Facility One. The scientists who looked after the progression of the infantry trooper’s most crucial stage of development were in equal parts puzzled and intrigued by the blemish.<br/>During his infant stage, the mark was no more than a splotch of black on the unit’s arm. Theorized to be nothing more than a slight birth defect -- nothing to be concerned about -- and certainly not enough cause to terminate the unit. But as the unit grew, the blemish began to gradually become more defined and sharpened; it became clear what the spot was.<br/>It was a soulmark.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>285</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yes hi i am trash and can never finish anything so here is another freaking idea I am so sorry lol I hope yall like it</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Magitek Unit NH-01987 began to develop a dark spot on his left forearm early during his incubation process in the artificial womb at Magitek Facility One. The scientists who looked after the progression of the infantry trooper’s most crucial stage of development were in equal parts puzzled and intrigued by the blemish. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>During his infant stage, the mark was no more than a splotch of black on the unit’s arm. Theorized to be nothing more than a slight birth defect -- nothing to be concerned about -- and certainly not enough cause to terminate the unit. But as the unit grew, the blemish began to gradually become more defined and sharpened; it became clear what the spot was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a soulmark. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This discovery put the unit, only three years into its development, under the direct scrutiny of Verstael Besithia himself. Released from the artificial womb, thus allowing the Minister direct access to the anomaly to perform many extensive and invasive experiments and tests. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Magitek Units did not </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>souls. They were empty husks, made from Besithia’s own genetic code, as a host for the plasmodium parasite to imprint onto, nothing more. It shouldn’t be </span>
  <em>
    <span>possible </span>
  </em>
  <span>for them to have a soulmark, especially when Besithia himself did not have one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of his tests came back the same -- NH-01987 was an exact copy of any other healthy developing MT. Its genetic material was a 99.86% match to Besithia’s own DNA, well within the parameters and by far not the most genetically different of the Magitek Units. The starscourge that had already been injected during the fetal stages had mixed wonderfully with the unit’s own body, and by all means it was a completely normal developing soldier of Nifelheim. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite that, it had a mark. A mark that stood dark and proud on his left forearm, encompassing the lower portion of his arm entirely, trickling down to his hand and fingers. The mark was intricate and unmistakably Lucian in design; dark and bold lines swooped and curled even down to the little creature’s fingertips. It was one of the biggest soulmarks Besithia had ever seen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Minister had considered terminating the unit. But... his scientific mind gave him pause. In the thousands of Magitek Troopers that had been created this is the first time such an oddity had occurred. What was it about this particular unit that it was blessed with a soulmate? Besithia was ever so curious what kind of person that soulmate must be, to be paired with an empty clone of himself, of all things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As a youth, Besithia had been obsessed with the prospect of soulmates -- people who were blessed by the six to be paired together. He researched it tirelessly; how two people could be linked through a magic divine bond (and would perform ethically dubious experiments on bonded pairs to learn how and why this happened). It was a rare phenomenon, less than 5% of the population had blessed marks, and those rare few who did receive them were seemingly random. Rich, poor, male or female, as far as Besithia could tell it was merely divine chance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most pairs had remarkable chemistry, though Besithia hadn’t ever quite figured out if this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>because </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the magic bond or from obligation to the Six’s choice in pairing them together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For all intents and purposes, soulmate pairs were </span>
  <em>
    <span>made </span>
  </em>
  <span>for each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Besithia was very eager to know who was made for him, Unit NH-01987 was his near exact clone afterall. He came to the very logical conclusion that the man or woman that carried the matching mark on their arm was, in a way, his soulmate as well. Absolutely fascinating. Not that he had any desire for a partner, especially at his age, but even the great Verstael Besithia was prone to vain curiosity every now and then. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nonetheless, he bookmarked the unit’s file and number after he had learned everything he could about the toddler. Sent him back with the rest of the NH units with new surgical scars crisscrossing his pale skin and a nervous disposition that would eventually be beaten and programmed out of him. Besithia did not plan to interact anymore with the unit, he was far too busy to waste any more of his time on one MT. But out of curiosity he would peak at the unit’s file from time to time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unit NH-01987 developed to be an exemplary marksman, topmarks in every ranged weapon in its division. Truly an amazing future asset to the Empire. The plasmodium injections became more frequent for the NH division and the Marked unit took to the starscourge beautifully, showing no signs of degradation or Felling. Mechanical implants soon followed the increase in injections, and the unit quickly accustomed to the physical change in its body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If not for the fact that the scientists recorded the unit was prone to anxiety and panic attacks, Besithia would say that he was the perfect model for an MT unit. No matter, it was not the first unit to display such weakness, and it would not be the last. By the time the unit finished its demonic transformation, all emotion would be gone anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ten years passed by quickly, Nifelheim’s empire was growing faster than anticipated thanks to Besithia’s Magitek Infantry. With the growth of the Empire came the growth of Resistance groups within their borders, a minor annoyance at best and a massive inconvenience at worst. Attacks on supply trains and sabotaged weaponry became more frequent and even the best officers in the Empire were having trouble pinpointing the radical criminals that were known as Vanargand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Late one bitter cold night, Besithia was in his lab located at the Capitol testing the effects Plasmodium had on human blood when a frantic knock sounded on his door. Annoyed, the minister didn’t even have the time to snap for the interrupter to leave at once when the door opened and a panicked officer exclaimed “Sir! Magitek Facility One has been attacked!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Besithia snapped, his annoyance forgotten in place of rage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vanargard has bombed the Facility, it is unknown just how substantial the damages are, we--” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Besithia stormed past the stammering officer, “Get out of the way!” he roared, storming down the hall to the nearest transportation to his Magitek Facility. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The damages were severe and costly, but nothing the great empire of Niflheim could rise above. An entire wing of the building had caught flame and thousands of MTs had been lost in the resulting fire. Millions of Gil in technology had been destroyed and over a dozen of the finest doctors and scientists of the Empire had been lost. To think that the most devastating hit to the Empire’s war efforts had come within their borders… disgusting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He began the long and arduous inventory check on all of the MT bodies that lay burnt and destroyed and it was confirmed that the Marked MT, Unit NH-01987 was missing.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Prompto Argentum stepped into the elevator of a prestigious law firm one early fall morning, mumbling a quiet “Excuse me,” to the pair of suited men already within the lift, tugging a cleaning cart behind him. He wore a saturated blue janitor uniform, with a Insomnia Ravens baseball ballcap on his head; all of his gold hair tucked within the hat. Awkwardly, he reached around one of the men to punch the top most available floor, shuffling back into the corner. The men ignored him, as people are wont to do with cleaning staff, and continued to make small talk with each other as the lift smoothly ascended. The door dinged, and they stepped out on to their floor without a backwards glance at Prompto, which worked fine for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the lift went by agonizingly slow, he shifted from foot to foot, took slow steady breaths, and tried his best to ignore the way the walls seemed to loom all around him. Another ding sounded and Prompto practically lunged out of the small space, nearly forgetting his cart in his haste to get out of the suffocating box. A secretary lady, who had been walking by with a stack of important looking papers in hand, gave him a strange look but thankfully didn’t say anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite it being so early in the day, the sun not even peaking over the Insomnian skyline, the topmost floor was bustling with men and women in fancy suits going about their respective jobs like a well oiled machine. Ducking his head so the bill of his hat shadowed his face Prompto pushed his cart through the halls silently.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The most important thing about sneaking through somewhere you weren’t supposed to be was confidence. As long as he acted like he was supposed to be there no one would question him or say anything. He repeated this in his head over and over again. This was far from his first job, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>the first time he had had to break into some poor janitor’s house, drug him, and steal his uniform and then sneak into such a populated area. Prompto just hoped that the guy wouldn’t get in a lot of trouble after this. Maybe he could ask Aranea to send the janitor some compensation? Probably not. Aranea would just laugh at him, tell him he was too soft hearted. He would have to think more on it later, after he was done here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faking a bored yawn, the blond swifty took out the stolen key ring and walked up to a metal door that said ‘Employees Only: Roof Access”, and stepped inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon the heavy door closed behind him and he was left standing in a cold concrete stariwell his entire demeanor changed, tired and bored shifted to determined and cold. Kneeling next to the cleaning cart he reached into the garbage bag and pulled out a heavy duffle bag, hauling the black bag onto his shoulder he swiftly went about blocking the door so we wouldn’t be interrupted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stepping onto the roof, Prom tugged off the stupid janitor uniform and hat. Running a hand through his messy hair, the blond walked up to the ledge of the building in black cargo pants and tight black tank top, his left arm wrapped in bandages. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Setting his bag next to him, the blond took a moment to breathe in the cold morning air. The high rise building had a beautiful view of the Insomnian skyline and the Citadel. Which, of course, is why he chose this building to set up. Up this high, the chill caused goosebumps to raise on his exposed arms, and the strong wind messed up his hair. Grumbling at his unruly hair, he pulled a black bandana from his pocket and tied the sash of fabric around his forehead to keep his hair from his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Falling to his knees, Prompto unzips his duffle bag. Reaching inside he begins to pull out gun components and swiftly begins to set up his high tech sniper rifle. His movements are well practised and efficient, the only sound being the clicking of parts of his rifle snapping together and the high winds that come from being at the top of a skyscraper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Running a hand along the smooth metal of his rifle, Prompto sets the stand on the flat edge of the building and spies through the scope, aimed towards the citadel. He sights the stainglass of the Lucian throne room, with a flick of a switch the scope vision flickers and then he can see within the room as if the windows weren’t there. A few people wander around the room, polishing and cleaning, none of them are his target. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is the only building in the whole of Insomnia that has a direct view of the throne room and is close enough for an assassin such as Prompto to get a clear shot, if just barely. Approximately twenty four thousand meters, the blond has never made a shot that far before (let alone without a spotter), and not for the first time doubts Aranea’s faith in him. He isn’t sure if he can do this, but he has never missed before and hopes that today won’t break his streak. They only have one chance at this after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Prompto sighs and settles down for a long wait, his assignment isn’t due to be in the throne room till noon, and it is barely past eight in the morning. Better to be early than late, he supposes. Not like Prompto had gotten any sleep last night anyway, he had just tossed and turned with nerves and eventually had just gotten up before the sky began to even lighten with day to get started on his mission. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To pass the time he familiarizes himself with the layout of the throne room and the surrounding area, there are several rows of intricately decorated columns that might get in the way of his shot. But if his sources are correct his target stands near the king during such ceremonies as the one taking place today. An initiation of the next group of Kingsglaives (the royalty here make a big spectacle out of linking the king’s magic to the new soldiers). Luckily for Prompto, he has a perfect view of the throne, and luckily for King Regis he isn’t Prompto’s target today. He thinks maybe they should send an anonymous letter to the Royal family that there is such a big security risk that they seem to be none the wiser about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, there are very few people in the world who could make such a shot, so Prompto doesn’t really think it would be a top priority. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are several patrols of crown guards stationed throughout the citadel, but what the blond is truly worried about is the kingsglaive he spots through his scope dotted around the area. With access to the king’s magic, the kingsglaive will be able to teleport to this building within minutes and considering who the blond’s target is… they’re going to be very motivated to catch him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is on his own for this job. Aranea wasn’t able to spare anyone to come with him, and if he gets caught she won’t be able to help him. At least not for a while yet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Prompto sighs long and slow, and fiddles with his gun a bit to get in a more comfortable position as he settles in for the long haul. His patience had never been great, his body is constantly high strung and needs to be moving or focused on something at all times. Prompto had already prepared everything for this job before he even took a step into this skyscraper and there is only so much scouting of the citadel he can do before he begins to get bored. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He passes the time by going through the math of this particular shot over and over in his head, the computer chip implanted in his head as a child helps a lot with this. Nonetheless, he does the math again and again and when that gets boring he settles for people watching on the people below through his scope. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time passes agonizingly slow. The sun rises steadily and the heat begins to rise as well, thankfully. Thick clouds begin to come in from the horizon and Prompto thinks it might rain later, but for now, the air is calm and still. When the sun is at its highest point in the sky is when people start to trickle into the throne room. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Prompto thinks to himself with relief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches as the king finally enters flanked by the prince, Cor Leonis, Clarus Amicitia, and Titus Drautos. King Regis makes it across the room and finally settles onto his throne and the ritual starts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cross of his scope lingers on the prince, who slouches and looks like he is trying really hard to not look like he is bored out of his mind. Something within Prompto pauses a moment, and for a strange and confusing minute he cannot take his eyes off of the man. He is… pretty. Really pretty. He is transfixed, he cannot look away and doesn’t want to. A foreign thrill runs up his spine and Prompto wants to be closer, wants to stand in front of the man and feel the warmth of his body and to know what makes him smile and happy and-- </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Prompto shakes his head, forcing himself to focus. He will unpack… all of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>later. When he isn’t about to kill someone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shifts his gun ever so slightly to look at the man that the prince is partially covering from the blond’s view. If he is off by a hairswidth he will hit Noctis Lucis Caelum and not even Aranea will be able to protect him from the wrath of the entirety of Lucis. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath, Prompto lets it out slow and steady. Everything around him blurs into white noise and all he can hear is his own heart beating slowly in his ears. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls the trigger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bullet seems to go in slow motion as it sails through the air in an arch, blasting through the pristine stained glass windows of the far off throne room. The bullet nicks the prince’s ear as it shoots past him to finally hit Prompto’s unsuspecting target in the back of the head. The man falls to the ground, dead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Prompto smirked, target Titus Drautos eliminated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not wasting any time, and not allowing himself to linger on the satisfaction of his most impressive kill to date, the blonde practically shoves his rifle back in his duffle bag and swiftly jogs to the exit of the roof. He zips up the stolen blue uniform, and takes the concrete stairs down to the entrance of the skyscraper two at a time. Not bothering to take the cart with him, Prompto readjusts his duffel as he steps into the pristine hallway of the topmost floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one seems to be any the wiser of the assassination that took place on this very roof, the news has not gotten time to get out yet, obviously. And Prompto swallows the lump of anxiety in his throat as he speed walks to the lift. Some people look at him with raised brows at his hurried steps but no one stops to question him. Practically jumping into the elevator, Prompto presses the lobby floor button half a dozen times with his fist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doors slide shut and he begins to make his descent. Nearly jumping out of his skin when the elevator comes to a stop early and a young woman steps in, holding a bunch of folders. She’s apparently going to the Lobby as well since she glances at the buttons but doesn’t press any. Prompto bites his lip and tries his best not to look too suspicious as he readjusts his duffle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you new here? I haven’t seen you around,” the girl says conversationally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blond makes a strangled noise and stammers “I-uh… y-y-yeah, I-I just started today,” he chokes out, a cold sweat shining on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The girl smiles, “It’s okay to be nervous! I know it can be a little intimidating at first. When I first started here I spilled coffee all over the CEO’s shirt and I thought she was going to kill me! Just think, you can’t have a worse first day than that!” and she seems so genuinely kind and Prompto feels sort of bad that the moment the lift opens up on the first floor he mumbles a quiet goodbye and practically sprints out of the lift and makes a B-line for the exit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was barely a block away from the building when sirens began to blare loudly through the city, people in the street around the blond stopped to stare upwards at the noise in equal parts confusion and trepidation. Hunching his shoulders, Prompto picked up his pace. He needs to get out of the city ASAP. The sooner he is back in Nifelheim the better. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows he should hole up and lay low a couple of days, maybe weeks, but that animalistic and demonic part of his head is screaming at him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>run. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He needs to leave right now. He needs to get as far away from the danger as possible and just make a run for it. He is starting to panic, he knows he is. But he can’t stop it. His breathing comes in short ragged breaths and he ducks his chin deep into the collar of his shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thunder rolls up above, and it begins to rain softly. Prompt glances up in annoyance, just his luck. As minutes trickle on the rain increases into a steady pour, soaking his unruly hair flat to his head. Prompto is most worried about his precious rifle and risks stepping into an alley to pull his baby out and wrap it up nice and tight so it doesn’t get waterlogged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it is the panic, maybe it's just because he is fucking stupid, but Prompto doesn’t notice the crownsguard that just so happens to have seen his gold hair and got suspicious and followed him into the alley and got a full view of the military-grade sniper rifle he was half in the process of zipping back into its case. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is grabbed from behind and pulled into a tight chokehold, and all Prompto can think for a hysterical moment is that this is certainly not the protocol to obtain a suspect. Kicking his legs out, Prompto snarls at the man, a deep demonic noise. Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck, fuck! Just his </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>luck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Prompto throws his head back to headbutt the crownsguard that has a hold on him, the man curses and a hand flies to his bleeding broken nose and gives the blond just the opportunity to wriggle free and </span>
  <em>
    <span>run. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Leaving his duffle behind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears the man snarl and into his earpiece shouts, “I have eyes on the sniper; slim, blond, approximately 5’6, making his way down 48th and 7th!” if he reports more on Prompto he doesn’t hear it because he sprints into the street, jumping over a taxi and narrowly avoiding a bicyclist before darting down an alleyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lightning flashes across the dark sky and lights up a group of police already on his tail.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For hours they chase him, but Prompto is faster and stronger than a normal human and outpaces them every time they get close. The teleportation is hard to run from, but Prompto is quick to figure out that if he leads the chase into cramped buildings it is impossible for the kingsglaive to properly use their swords to teleport to him. He has never been more thankful for those parkour lessons from Bicks and Wedge, and uses every skill he has to avoid capture. Climbing up buildings and jumping from roof to roof. But as the day wears on his body begins to falter and he misjudges a step and falls off the roof, narrowly grabbing hold of a slippery fire escape before he falls to the hard concrete below. Screaming as something in his shoulder rips out of place and he falls the rest of the way down into a pile of soaked trash bags. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands are bloody and raw from all of the climbing, blood cakes on the side of his head from slipping on wet stone headfirst into a fucking brick wall. He is beaten and bruised and so fucking tired. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sun is just about to set when he runs across an intersection, the lights of the streetlights reflecting in the water on the street when suddenly there is a flash of blue light and something big and heavy hits him from behind and he is tackled to the ground with a grunt. The kingsglaive above him is panting hard, brutal grip twisting his arm to the point of tear-inducing agony, but not quite enough to break. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got you, you fucker,” the man hisses in his ear before sitting up and pressing a hand to his ear, “This is Ulric, I have the target. Bringing him in now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Prompto goes limp in defeat and lets his head fall back against the wet asphalt, blinking rain from his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is so fucked.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prompto is captured and questioned, Noctis is intrigued</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Next chaper baybeee! Hope y'all like it! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Prompto pulled at the shackles chained behind his back, glaring up through his hair towards the one way mirror to his right where he knew someone was watching him. He could hear their heartbeat as they studied him, steady and slow. He didn’t know whether they were just there to guard him or they were his interrogator studying him before coming in to torture him for information. </p><p>After he had been frogmarched through the whole citadel, Prompto had been placed in a small interrogation room, chained to an uncomfortable metal chair bolted to the floor, and was left there for gods knew how long. </p><p>The room was conditioned, making his soaked clothing freezing to the touch and Prompto fought back a violent shiver. This was probably part of the interrogation, leaving him waiting and freezing for hours with nothing else to do but imagine what they were going to do to him. The blond was ashamed to admit it was working. </p><p>He hears multiple people enter the viewing room on the other side of the mirror. </p><p>“Is this the guy?” one voice asks, he sounds young and something about it makes Prompto perk up. He wants the stranger to talk more, he could listen to them for hours. </p><p>“Yup,” a gruff voice confirmed, the one who has been guarding him for the last couple hours. “How’s your ear?”</p><p>“Fine, doesn’t hurt too bad. Doc said it would scar though.” the first voice says, and after a moment asks “Has he done anything?” </p><p>“Nope. Bastard hasn’t said a word since we brought him in, he did growl at Accius when he was cuffing him to the chair though.”</p><p>“Like <em> actually </em>growled?”</p><p>“Yeah, like a fucking dog or something.”</p><p>The first voice hums and Prompto closes his eyes, resisting the urge to bare his sharp teeth and snarl at the glass. He is not a dog. He is a person. He is a human. He repeats this in his head over and over like a mantra: <em> you're human, you’re human, you’re human… </em></p><p>“Do you know who he works for?”</p><p>“We have a couple guesses.” the man grumbles, “Why are you even down here? It’s late, you should go to sleep; you’ve been through some tough shit today.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t be able to sleep even if I wanted to,” the first voice admits distantly, “Every time I close my eyes I see Drautos’s body hitting the floor…”</p><p>“Shit, Noct…” the second voice sighs, and he thinks he hears the first voice (Noct?) shrug. </p><p>“It’s fine, I’ll be okay,” There is a long moment of silence before the man speaks again, “He doesn’t look like an assassin.” </p><p>“And you would know what assassins look like?” the gruff voice wonders wryly. </p><p>Noct makes a frustrated noise, “Not like that, I just mean… he looks -- nice. I guess.”</p><p>“That man tried to put a bullet in your skull today.”</p><p>“You don’t think I don’t know that? You know what -- nevermind. It’s stupid.”</p><p>“Yeah, it fucking is.” </p><p>And then they lapse into silence, neither speaking. Just watching him. Prompto bites his cheek to stop himself from shifting uncomfortably. </p><p>If there was one thing he hated, it was being tied down and studied. He had spent most of his life locked away and he would rather die than do so again. Sadly, that bastard kingsglaive that had captured him (Ulric, was it?) had ever so kindly relieved him of every single hidden blade on his person, even going so far as to pull off his boots and dig for the one in the sole, so he had nothing to help him escape this stupid citadel. </p><p>Prompto leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling, thinking. He knows for a fact that he isn’t going to be killed, Lucis was remarkably forgiving on that front. No, he’d probably be locked away for the rest of his life in some Lucian Prison after they got every single piece of information out of him. Would he be tortured? Prompto didn’t think he would, at least not in the physical sense. </p><p>In a way, he supposed what he was going through right now was a form of torture. Cold, alone, injured, and very <em> very </em>hungry. </p><p>With a sigh, Prompto gingerly shifted his burning throbbing shoulder, gritting his teeth at the pulsing pain that radiates from the socket. He probably dislocated it in his fall. The rest of his injuries were minor, various scrapes and bruises, and of course the dried blood still caked to the side of his face. No one had even offered to wipe it off and the flaking blood pulled at his hair every time he moved. It was <em> annoying </em>. </p><p>Everything about this situation was <em> annoying </em> . He played the day's events over and over in his head. How could he have been so stupid to openly reveal his weapon like that? What the hell had he been thinking? Oh right, he <em> hadn’t.  </em></p><p>A part of him craved the agony of the Correction he would go through every time he made a mistake in Magitek Facility One. He had fucked up. He needed to be Corrected. He malfunctioned. He needed to be <em> fixed </em> . He <em> needed </em>it.</p><p>Gritting his teeth, Prompto shook his head, purging the thoughts that sounded sickeningly familiar to Besithia’s scratchy voice. </p><p>Thank the fucking Six that his heightened sense of hearing picked up the sound of footfalls outside the thick door a moment before it opened soundlessly and a man with short brown hair and a serious face walked in, carrying a familiar folder. Prompto recognized him from his reconnaissance of Drautos: Cor Leonis, the Immortal. </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>The immortal didn’t say a thing as he flicked through the folder casually before dropping it on the table in front of the blond, the papers within spreading out across the metal surface. Several dozen files and blurry pictures of Prompto and several assassination reports of Nifleheim government officials. From what he could see by just a glance, all of them were his targets in the past; looks like they had done their homework. </p><p>“You’re in some deep shit, kid.” Cor finally spoke, Prompto glared at the corner of the room and didn’t say anything, “So either we can do this the easy way, or the hard way -- your choice.”</p><p>Silence. </p><p>“Attempted assassination on the crown prince of Lucis is a big deal.” the man hedged and Prompto had meant to play the silent game but that was just <em> insulting </em>. </p><p>“Wasn’t aiming for him,” Prompto grumbled, glancing up through the curtain of his bangs. </p><p>“What, are you saying you missed?”</p><p>He grins with bloody teeth, “I don’t miss.” </p><p>Cor snorted, “If not the prince, then why Titus Drautos? What do you, or your hire, have to gain from killing him?”</p><p>“Nothin’,” He sniffed, “But they have a ton to gain from killing General Glauca.”</p><p>Cor frowned, “What--”</p><p>“General Glauca has infiltrated your city and has managed to become the captain of your most elite soldiers, and none of you were any the wiser.” Prompto plowed on, “He has been leaking information back to Niflheim for <em> years, </em>I was assigned to… get rid of the problem.” He shifted his weight, the chains behind his back clinking together. The bandages on his left arm were loosening thanks to the constant chafing of the cufflinks. </p><p>“If you check the body, you’ll probably find the liquid armor…” Prompto mentions, almost casually. His stomach feels like it's twisting in knots, he wants to hunch his shoulders and hide into himself but Aranea would probably hit him over the head if she saw him being weak in front of the enemy. Though, Prompto didn’t really think Lucis was their enemy. What was that saying? Enemy of thy enemy is thy friend? Hopefully, the Lucians thought the same thing about Vanagard. </p><p>Cor glares for a moment before his eyes flicker to the one way mirror and he nods surreptitiously and Prompto hears one of their audience leave the room, probably to go check if Prompto is telling the truth.</p><p>“Nifelheim is planning an attack on Insomnia in five months during the Peace Negotiations,” Prompto murmurs quietly, gaze nervously flicking up and back away again. This is probably a bad idea, but… Aranea had talked about reaching out to Lucius anyway and he thinks letting them know will do more good than harm. Prompto still struggles with making decisions for himself and others but something in his gut tells him that this is the right thing. “The… people who I work for had broken into Zegnautus Keep three months ago and found confidential files on all of this, about Drautos, the Peace Treaty, <em> everything.” </em></p><p>“And who do you work for, kid?” Leonis doesn’t look like he believes him, but at least he is humoring him. </p><p>“They’re called Vanagard, they are a resistance group in Nifleheim who is led by Aranea Highwind, they--”</p><p>“We know of Vanagard, kid,” Cor lets out a long sigh and runs a hand down his face. Prompto doesn’t know how he feels about the whole <em> kid </em>thing. As far as Aranea could guess he was around twenty years old. Maybe. At least physically. MTs were grown in tanks and thus had accelerated growth so it was hard to pinpoint exactly how old he really was but truthfully that kind of stuff never really mattered to Prompto. He was never a child, not really at least. Even when he was smaller he was nothing more than a soldier. </p><p>The members of Vanagard who had taken him from the Magitek Facility had called him “kid” too. They had taken him to a ratty bunker base where they tied him up and asked him strange questions that didn’t make any sense and he had been so scared he had cried. For some reason when he did that they had untied him and slapped him on the back gently in a way that somehow made him a little less scared. Apparently they had wanted to study what made an MT tic but they could only grab Prompto in the chaos of everything. He knows it is selfish but he is glad that they did. He became their weapon and he killed anyone they pointed to, no questions asked. And he is happy to do it. </p><p>“Kid,” Cor says, snapping him out of his thoughts, “Tell me everything you know.” And... Prompto does. Enemy of thy enemy is thy friend, he reminds himself. He talks for hours and hours on everything he can remember from reading the reports himself. He has a fantastic memory so it is a lot. He talks about supply trains and the location of every single Magitek Facility and Military Base in Niflheim. A female kingsglaive comes in quietly with a map for him to better point out exactly where each of these bases, the woman goes and leans against the wall somewhere behind the blond and his neck burns from where her eyes bore into him. Swallowing thickly, he tries to focus on what he is saying without looking too uncomfortable. Though… Cor is watching him like a hawk and he thinks that the immortal is reading him like a book. Prompto has always kept his heart on his sleeve and no matter how much training he went through to hide his emotions he could never really get it down. He shows them the routes Zegnautus Keep is most likely to take as well, and basically any sort of information that he thinks might have some use. When he is finished it is early morning and his eyes are drooping.</p><p>“We are done for now,” Cor says, getting to his feet and rolling his shoulders “Korvus, take him to one of the holding cells.”</p><p>Prompto resists the urge to bare his teeth as the tall female kingsglaive who has been standing in the corner of the room this whole time uncuffs him and hauls him to his feet. His shoulder flares in pain and he wrenches himself out of her grasp angrily only for her to grab his left arm and walk towards the door. Halfway there she pauses, eyes fixed on his arm where the bandages are loose and drooping.</p><p>“Marshall,” she says meaningfully, gingerly unwrapping the coverings to reveal the intricate dark mark underneath and holding his arm firmly so he can’t pull away. </p><p>“Hey, what are you--” Prompto growls, trying to tug his arm out of her grip. </p><p>Cor glances up from where he is looking at some more of the files, his gaze immediately zeroing in on Prom’s arm. His eyes widen in shock and suddenly the immortal is looming over Prompto and grabbing his arm and pulling it close so he can study the blemish with an intenseness that puts the blond on edge. </p><p>“Hey hey, what the hell? Haven’t you seen a <em> soulmark </em>before -- get off me!” Prompto shouts, swallowing nervously and leaning as far back as he can get. </p><p>“Is it…” the female kingsglaive Korvus wonders hesitantly. </p><p>“Yeah,” Cor responds curtly with a deep frown, rotating his arm so he can look at the inside of his arm where the soulmark wraps around. </p><p>Prompto glances between the two Lucians, bewildered. </p><p>What the hell is going on?</p><hr/><p>Noctis leans to the side to try and get a good look at the assassin that Cor is currently blocking from his sight, curious. He wonders what it is that has gotten the immortal so wound up, the blond had said something about a soulmark? </p><p>He glances over to Clarus and Gladio who watch the whole thing with cross arms and serious eyes, none of them have said a word in hours and have just been listening to what the assassin has to say. And apparently he has to say a lot. Most of it is unbelievable and usually Noctis would be bored out of his mind with this kind of stuff but something about this assassin makes it so he cannot take his eyes away.</p><p>He couldn’t leave the observation room, even if he wanted to. Something deep within him rebels at just the thought. The stranger’s voice is just so… so interesting and Noctis cannot explain it but everything about the other man is just <em> fascinating. </em>He wishes the glass wasn’t in the way and he was in the same room as the foreigner, he wishes he could be close enough to reach out and touch and hold and--</p><p>His left arm tingles at the thought. </p><p>To be honest, Noctis hasn’t been paying much attention to what the assassin has been saying, instead he is focused on memorizing every single aspect of his face. The scar across his brow, the splattering of freckles across his cheeks, how his unruly gold hair falls into his eyes. Noctis doesn’t think he has ever seen anyone so pretty. </p><p>Anger boils deep in his gut at the dried blood on the side of the man’s face, from what little bare skin he can see the blond is covered in scrapes and bruises and he holds himself stiffly in the chair. This man should not be in pain, <em> ever. </em> And Noctis wants to hold him close and protect him from everything that might ever hurt him and -- <em> what the hell is he thinking </em>?</p><p>He shakes his head to clear the weird thoughts from his head but they still linger. He desperately hopes what this man is saying is true because he desperately wants to at least be allowed to have a conversation with him. He is lucky Clarus has even allowed him to be here at all. Especially with how grumpy the Amicitia is that the crown prince almost got a bullet in his skull today. As guardian of the Royal family he tended to take stuff like that personally. </p><p>Noctis shivers as he thinks back to that moment. It had come out of nowhere. There was the sound of shattering glass and then there was a flare of pain on his ear as something flew passed him and hit Titus Drautos in the back of his fucking <em> head </em>. Truthfully, Noctis hadn’t really known the guy, he seemed like the militaristic serious type of man that always intimidated the young prince and he had always kept a wide berth around. But that doesn’t change the fact that that had been the first time he had ever seen someone die, and it had happened right next to him. What really scares him though is that… he doesn’t really care? He doesn’t feel any fear or sadness, it’s all distant. </p><p>The stitches on his ear itch, and Noctis resists the need to scratch at it.  </p><p>“Do you think he is tellin’ the truth?” Gladio breaks the silence. </p><p>Clarus hums, “Hard to say. For my own sanity I hope he isn’t.” </p><p>“Drautos has been captain of the kingsglaive <em> forever, </em>how could he be the mole?” Noctis’s shield grumbles. Inside the interrogation room Cor and the kingsglaive are whispering to each other, sending glances at the mirror and the assassin stands awkwardly off to the side, even though the martial still has an iron grip on his left arm. The prince is momentarily distracted by how the still wet fabric of his tight sleeveless shirt is stretched across his chest.  </p><p>“We’ll look into it, figure all of this out.” Clarus sighs. Inside the interrogation room the assassin tugs at the Immortal’s grip on his arm and everyone in the room stiffens at the sight of the dark bold lines that encompass the entirety of his lower arm and hand. </p><p>Noctis thinks he hears Gladio curse and Clarus actually <em> whimper </em> in despair at the rise in his blood pressure but it is hard to tell because the prince feels his own matching mark hum warmly and he can’t take his eyes off the blond man on the other side of the glass. His soulmate. His <em> soulmate!  </em></p><p>Cor quickly grabs the blond again and basically drags him out of the room, followed by half a dozen crownsguard. The prince makes a move towards the door, only for Gladio to grab his arm.</p><p>“Noctis, no-”</p><p>“Gladio, that’s my fucking <em> soulmate, </em> what do you <em> mean--” </em></p><p>“Your <em> soulmate </em>tried to kill you not even a couple hours ago! You can’t see him, at least till we can confirm what he says is true and that he is not a threat to you or anyone else.”</p><p>“You heard him, he wasn’t aiming for <em> me!” </em>Noctis shouts back hysterically. </p><p>Gladio gives him a deadpan look but before he can say anything, probably about how stupid Noctis is, Clarus puts a hand on his shoulder. “Look, Noctis, I know you want to go see him. Trust me, I <em> know” </em>And Noctis is reminded of the small bundle of lilies that rest on Clarus’s shoulderblade, “But we know nothing of this man, or what he wants. I promise you that when we know that you will be safe you will be allowed to see him, but for now--”</p><p>“He’s my <em> soulmate </em>why would he want to hurt me, you’re making no sense, I-” </p><p>“Are young and don’t understand these things yet but <em> trust </em>me, this is for the best.” Clarus is doing his best to use that father's voice that always makes Noctis crack, even when he is in his most intense of moods, but this time it is not working. </p><p>He glares harshly at his father’s shield and tries to make a run for the door but is quickly stopped by Gladio. “Nope,” the large man grunts as Noctis snarls at him. </p><p>“Please take the prince to his room, and don’t let him out till morning,” Clarus tells a crownsguard and Noctis rages as he is practically frogmarched back to his room. He can’t believe this bullshit. What right do they have keeping him from his soulmate? How <em> dare </em>they? </p><p>Noctis feels like a caged animal and he storms into his apartment, slamming the door in the crownsguard’s face. Growling to himself, Noctis begins to pace, running his hands through his hair. </p><p>In his head, the sight of the soulmark that has been on his arm his entire life on <em> someone else </em> plays over and over again in his head. He wants to see them, to get to know them. Gods, he would give anything just to see the blond <em> smile! </em> But he is forced back to his room like some child when he <em> should </em> be on the other side of the citadel with his <em> soulmate.  </em></p><p>Snarling, Noctis grabs the nearest thing to him, which happens to be a vase, and chucks it across the room. The polished porcelain shatters against the wall, it doesn’t make the prince feel better. </p><p>There is a knock on the door, “You’re highness, are you--”</p><p>“Leave me alone!” Noctis shouts angrily, magic sparking at his fingertips. He even has a chaperone at the only exit making sure he can’t leave! Well… his eyes flicker over to the sliding glass door that leads out to the balcony, not the <em> only </em>exit. </p><p>Really, Clarus should’ve known the only person that can ever keep him in one place is Ignis. He probably should’ve woken the advisor up instead of sending a couple of random crownsguard with him. And he definitely shouldn’t have forced Noctis to leave his soulmate.</p><p>With a downright feral grin, Noctis rushes into his room and grabs his engine blade that rests at his bedside. He walks out of his bedroom and slams the door, hopefully loud enough that the crownsguard at his door will assume he stormed off into his room to rage. Making his way to the balcony, the young prince opens the door and looks out over the Insomnia night skyline. It is still raining, his hair immediately soaking under the downpour but Noctis doesn’t mind. He has always loved the rain anyway. </p><p>His apartment is over a hundred stories above the ground, and truthfully Noctis has never warped so far but he has knows exactly how to do it. He has been through the motions a hundred thousand times and had gone through long grueling training sessions with the kingsglaive on how to properly warp in different situations. </p><p>Jumping a couple of times to hype himself up, Noctis takes a running jump off the balcony and is in a free fall. He allows himself to linger in the feeling of falling, rain droplets splashing against his cheeks before moving into action. Sending his engine blade flying away from him at an angle. He waits a long few moments before activating the magic within him like a spark and there is a pulling sensation deep in his chest and suddenly he is catching his engine blade mere feet from the ground and falls into a roll to break the rest of his fall. </p><p>Hopping to his feet, the prince looks back up to the building he has just warped from and grins. Badass. </p><p>The easy part is over, and the young prince sneaks back into the main citadel, dripping rainwater all over the floor, and dodging patrols that have been increased since that morning and making his way through the labyrinth of hallways and stairwells. His soulmate is probably being held in the dungeon, which isn’t as bleak and scary as it sounds. Really, it’s just a bunch of cells, not even on the most bottom floor. Noctis just likes calling it the dungeon cause it sounds cool, really. </p><p>It takes longer than he would like, especially with the fact that he has to be stealthy. But eventually, he makes it to the doors leading to the cellblock and finds two guards standing at the entrance, looking bored and tired. Noctis warps past them without them any the wiser and silently sneaks down the hall of empty cells till he finds the one the blond is in. His <em> soulmate.  </em></p><p>His heart feels like it shatters at the sight of the small boy curled up into a tight ball in the far corner, trembling. He looks so… small. And Noctis wants to warp through the bars and gather him in his arms and never let him go. But one look at the bars tells him that his magic will be instantly repelled if he tries. And… he thinks that maybe his soulmate won’t want him to be so close. The poor boy looks scared enough already without some stranger getting all up in his face. Noctis is fine just being in the same room as the blond, and maybe he will complain about it to Ignis later but this is good for now.</p><p>“Hey,” He calls, because the boy has yet to raise his head to acknowledge him. The assassin jerks in surprise and lifts his head from where it has been buried in his knees and it occurs to Noctis that the foreigner has been sleeping and he feels a pang of guilt at waking him. </p><p>“You’re…” the blond starts and shrinks farther into the wall.</p><p>“The guy you tried to kill today?” Noctis grins, trying to lighten the mood, and immediately regrets it because the boy flinches harshly at his attempting joke.</p><p>“I wasn’t aiming for you,” He whispers, keeping his gaze down. “You were never in any danger…” </p><p>“Oh,” Noctis says, settling down on the floor, one knee raised to let his arm rest on, the other bracing his weight behind him. “You did hit my ear, though,” he tries to keep his voice light but the blond seems to pull back into himself further anyway. </p><p>“You shifted your weight just as I pulled the trigger, if you hadn’t have done that you would’ve been fine… Not that it’s your fault or anything! Just know that I-I didn’t m… mean to.” and Noctis doesn’t think he has ever seen anyone as cute as this boy. </p><p>“Eh, that's alright. Think I’ll get a cool scar from it though?” he leans back on his left hand and smirks and it takes everything within him not to roll around and scream with delight when his soulmate offers him the smallest of smiles. </p><p>“Maybe,” the boy offers, smiling down at his feet. Noctis spends a long moment just smiling at him when a thought strikes him. </p><p>“Hey, what's your name anyway?” and now that he has thought it he can’t get it out of his head, he has to know. </p><p>The blond looks at him with big purple eyes and bites his lip, “P-Prompto,” and Noctis decides then and there that he has never heard a prettier sound than his soulmate’s name. </p><p>“Oh, I’m--” the dark-haired boy starts.</p><p>“Noctis Lucis Caelum, Crown Prince to the Lucian Throne,” Prompto says quietly. He startles a moment later and murmurs a quick, “I-I'm sorry, your highness.” something within Noctis sours at the honorific.</p><p>He frowns, “No, no, you can call me Noctis, or Noct or… you can call me whatever you want, just…” <em> please don’t call me your highness, </em>he thinks but doesn’t say. </p><p>“Oh, o-okay…” Prompto stutters. His pretty purple eyes flicker from the ground up to Noctis, “Why… are you here?”</p><p>The prince shrugs, feels his cheeks burn, “Guess I was just interested in meeting you…” and he tries to catch sight of Prompto’s own soulmark but it is curled up against the blond’s chest and out of his view. </p><p>“I don’t think you’re supposed to be down here,” Prompto whispers. “You could get both of us in trouble…”</p><p>“Why would you get in trouble? I’m the one who snuck down here,” Noctis pouts. </p><p>Prompto glowers at him adorably, “Doesn’t change the fact that you're talking to a foreign assassin who nearly killed you.”</p><p>“Yeah, but you <em> didn’t </em>. You said you weren’t aiming for me and I wasn’t in any danger, right?”</p><p>Now Prompto looks frustrated, “Doesn’t change the fact that I could’ve.”</p><p>“But you didn’t.”</p><p>“But I <em> could’ve </em>” </p><p>“How did you even do that, anyway? Gladio told me that you shot from that one law firm, with the mirror windows?” Noctis is smiling now. His soulmate is such a <em> badass! </em> </p><p>Prompto shrugs, “It’s just a lot of math, really. You gotta account for the wind, the weight of the bullet, the distance, the curvature of the earth, that kind of stuff...”</p><p>“<em> Cool,” </em>Noctis says, and he means that. “So, you’re like, what? A hitman?”</p><p>Prompto makes a face, “I think I’m more of an assassin, Ezio style. A hitman sounds boring.” </p><p>Noctis grins, “You play Assassin’s Creed?” </p><p>“Ch’yeah!” The blond smiles back and Noctis’s chest feels warm. The warm feeling disappears as Prompto tries to sit up further and he grimaces, his smile replaced by a pinched expression on his face. </p><p>“Hey, you okay?”</p><p>The blond glances up at him, “My shoulder is dislocated.” Noctis stiffens. “I tried to reset it against the bars but it didn’t work,” and he sounds so casual about it, and Noctis feels his magic crackle between his fingertips in his anger and he rips his phone out of his pocket and swiftly clicks on Ignis’s contact. </p><p>“What are you…” </p><p>“Getting you some help,” Noctis practically growls as the phone rings. </p><p>Prompto frowns, “I am an enemy of your country, why are you even--”</p><p>“From what I understand you did us a fucking favor, okay?” he snaps and Prompto flinches at his tone. Noctis sighs and his voice is much quieter, “Just… just let me help you, please?” </p><p>The small blond bites his lip and nods his acquiesce quietly. Noctis is momentarily distracted by how the light reflects off Prompto's pretty hair when suddenly Ignis answers the phone, sounding grumpy. </p><p>“Gods, Noct, what could you possibly need at…” there’s a pause, “four in the morning?” </p><p>“Hey, Iggy do you know how to reset a dislocated shoulder?” Noctis wonders. </p><p>There is a long moment of silence. </p><p>“... why?” and he sounds so <em> suspicious </em>and there is a wave of brimming anger in his voice that almost makes Noctis smile and he knows for a fact that Ignis is going to kill him. </p><p>“Well, you know when you told me not to go see the assassin…?”</p><p>Ignis lets out a tired defeated sigh, “Noct, you didn’t…” there is an annoyed edge to his tone. </p><p>“His name is Prompto and he is just sitting here with a dislocated shoulder, Specs! And he’s my…” </p><p>“You’re what?” Ignis sounds like he is getting up from bed, and there is shuffling in the background that sounds like his advisor is pulling on a jacket. Prompto is staring at him curiously but isn’t saying anything.</p><p>“I’ll tell you when you get here,” Noctis decides. He notices the blond shiver and the wetness of his clothes, and also how cold he also is with his still soaked clothes. “Can you also bring some clothes?” he adds. “And a blanket?” because there isn't one on the little cot in the corner and that is just <em>mean </em>Noctis is going to have to talk to his dad in the morning. </p><p>Ignis sighs but makes an annoyed sound of affirmation. </p><p>Noctis can’t help but grin at the blond across the bars and Prompto gives him a nervous smile in return and the prince thinks that his heart is going to explode from just how cute he is.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know why I thought I could finish this in three chapters cause... yeah that's not happening lol<br/>Noctis is such a spoiled dork I love him lol just for context I think they're both around 20? Yeah cause I realize I made Noctis sound a little childish and wanted to make that clear that that's cause he is a spoiled little lovesick idiot who is used to getting his way and not cause he is... yknow actually a child lol<br/>I hope you guys like it and I would love to know what yall think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>New chapter! Sorry for the long wait y'all I am lazy and only worked on this chapter like ten minutes at a time ;-;</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Prompto blinks as the tall man with glasses that had introduced himself as Ignis runs his long fingers along the blond’s left arm. Behind him Noctis hovers awkwardly, his hands half-raised as if he wants to reach out and touch the dark swooping lines trickling down the blond’s fingers. He is surprised when he realizes he wouldn’t mind the prince’s touch, and if he were a braver person he might’ve offered out his hand for the prince to take. But alas, Prompto is not brave and he lowers his head with his cheeks burning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you feel this?” Ignis wonders, tapping Prompto’s fingertips.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, resting his forehead against the cool bars, “Yeah…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignis’s cool fingers trail farther up his arm and to his shoulder, his cool green eyes assessing. Prompto is pressed uncomfortably against the bars so that the other blond can have access to his wounded shoulder. It pulses with uncomfortable burning heat, and the skin around it is bruised and dark from him slamming it against the bars to try and pop it back in place himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In hindsight that was probably a bad idea, but that dark nagging voice in his head had been screaming at him that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>damaged </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he needed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>repair </span>
  </em>
  <span>himself and it wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>shut up. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Prompto had curled up on the floor trying to ignore the voice for hours before his will finally caved and he ended up slamming his shoulder into the bars to try and force it back into place himself. He had only stopped when his vision began to swim from the pain and his weight collapsed from beneath him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Ignis says after a long moment of feeling around his shoulder, shifting his weight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you fix it?” Noctis wonders, kneeling closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can pop it back in place, but he will need to see an </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual </span>
  </em>
  <span>doctor in the morning,” Ignis grumbles, glaring at the prince. Prompto’s violet gaze flickers back and forth between the two, swallowing nervously. He stiffens as the tall man’s cool green eyes focus back on him, “Are you okay with me doing this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is confused why Ignis is asking his permission but nods nonetheless. The man hums, his brow furrowed in concentration as he grips his arm firmly. Prompto lowers his head and braces himself against the bars and doesn’t make a sound when there is a tug and a loud </span>
  <em>
    <span>pop </span>
  </em>
  <span>as his shoulder is clinically ripped back into place and a wave of relief rushes through him and he sags against the cool metal bars with a sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noctis hovers close, “You okay?” he asks, a line of worry between his brows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto hums an affirmative, doesn’t raise his head as he just breathes for a moment. He is used to pain, had spent nearly the first half of his life in constant agony, but the blond has always been weak and needs a moment to gather himself before he can even think about meeting the prince’s eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How does it feel?” Ignis wonders, gently touching the bruised area around his shoulder to make sure the bone was back in its proper place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better,” Prompto murmurs, gingerly rolling his shoulder “Thank you” and he raises his head at last to give the taller man a smile that feels more like a grimace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignis nods, “Not a problem,” and raises to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noctis shuffles closer, “Does it still hurt?” he wonders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto looks at him, “Yeah,” he is still confused why the prince even </span>
  <em>
    <span>cares. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Why he snuck down here, dripping wet and just… started talking to him. He feels like he is out of the loop, like there is something he doesn’t know. And despite the prince being nothing but kind and unfairly charming his suspicion is starting to rise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, he had thought this was some sort of “good cop bad cop” routine, but he doesn’t know why the Lucian guards would let their crown prince near a foreign assassin. And he had been nothing but cooperative once he had been captured. Before that though… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then he started talking and had been so kind and funny and </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Prompto ruined it by revealing his injury and the prince had </span>
  <em>
    <span>insisted </span>
  </em>
  <span>on calling Ignis down to help and a big part of him wished that he hadn’t so he would have been able to talk to the man longer without interruption. There was a time when he could’ve gotten shot with a bullet and not reacted at all, it seems his years with Vanargard had made him soft. He smiles bitterly at the ceiling, imagining what his correctional officer would’ve done to him at the sight of such weakness. He shivers at the thought even as that dark part of him yearns for the correction. He hates it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prompto? You okay?” the prince calls out worriedly, his arm raised like he wants to reach through the bars and touch him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you being so kind to me?” Prompto wondered tiredly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The prince hesitates, bites his lip as he tugs at his jacket sleeve. Prompto raises a brow at him and Noctis stares at him for a long moment before something visibly gives within him and he yanks his sleeve up and practically shoves his arm in the blond’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, he isn’t able to comprehend exactly what Noctis is showing him. Identical markings to his own trail down the lower part of his arm and something in him wants to reach out and </span>
  <em>
    <span>touch.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What…” Prompto whispered, absolutely floored. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The prince smiles, flexes his tattooed fingers nervously “Yeah…” he says, blushing. “Guess I just wanted to meet my soulmate is all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s stomach drops, “Oh,” he says, and gives a strained smile. Noctis doesn’t seem to notice, because he is still staring at Prompto like he was something precious and that can’t be right because Prompto is a monster, a demon, a machine, and Noctis is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>prince. How</span>
  </em>
  <span> can they be soulmates? This must be a fluke it has to be, it--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sorry to interrupt,” Ignis calls out, cutting off Prompto’s train of thought, “But it is time that his highness was off to bed. We have all had a long day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noctis tries to protest but the taller man’s icy gaze quickly quiets him. “Goodnight, Prompto.” the prince whispers with a boyish grin that makes Prompto’s heart flutter as he steps away with a shy wave and follows after his advisor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto watches them go as they disappear from his line of sight and the doors to the cellblock close with a resounding clang and he is left alone once again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bites his lip and leans against the cold stone wall, staring blankly at his soulmark. Running his cold fingers along the smooth skin, absently tracing the stark black lines as he stares off into the middle distance. The lines are warm to the touch, and there is a strange pleasant buzz under his skin that is unbelievably comforting in this cold dark cell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t understand what is happening. Of course, he knows what soulmarks are. A couple members of Vanagard had told him all about it, revealing their own marks to him.  Before being taken by the resistance group in Nifelheim, he hadn’t known. The scientists hadn’t bothered to tell him what the marks on his arm were, they didn’t really ever really talk to him at all besides barking commands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not everyone has marks though. In fact, it is more common for someone to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>have a mark. Prompto wishes he didn’t have one. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>have one. He grips a handful of his hair and groans; guilt constricts his insides painfully and Prompto curses gods he doesn’t even believe in that they forced a </span>
  <em>
    <span>prince </span>
  </em>
  <span>of all things to be chained to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s what this is</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Prompto realizes as he stares down at his arm, </span>
  <em>
    <span>these are shackles</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Chains that connect Noctis to a monster. A demon. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Not all soulmates have a romantic bond, but Prompto can already tell from the short time spent with his match that if they kept interacting it… </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>wouldn’t be a platonic relationship. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes </span>
  </em>
  <span>Noctis. A frankly weird amount for barely one conversation and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wants to learn more about the man, who he is, what he likes, his favorite food, what his opinions are on chocobos, </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But at the same time, he thinks about the future. About the fact that one day Noctis would be a king, and that if Prompto had a relationship with the man he would be in the public eye and he feels like he is going to throw up at just the </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He can’t… he can’t handle that. In his mind’s eye, he sees himself standing next to the prince and squeezes his eyes shut because the image is </span>
  <em>
    <span>humiliating </span>
  </em>
  <span>for Noctis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gritting his sharp teeth, Prompto wonders if maybe he could grow his arm back if he tried to cut it off. Like a lizard, or something. Who knows what Besithia did to his DNA, for all Prompto knew he could be part gecko. Better not to risk it. The mark would probably grow back with it anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe if he found some acid and dipped his arm in it? Chemical burns were sure to destroy a mark like this, right? Prompto didn’t know, but thinks that he should probably figure out something that doesn’t involve bodily mutilation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first chance he gets, Prompto is going to escape here. He is going to go back to Niflheim, and forget this mission ever happened. It will be better for everyone. Better for Noctis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one should be chained to a monster, after all. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The next morning Prompto is curled up underneath his cot, having barely gotten a wink of sleep, when a squad of crownsguard practically drag him from his cell and frogmarch him to the infirmary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits stiffly in the clinical white room, wiping his sweaty palms on the paper sheet over the bed. His wrists are cuffed together in front of him, but besides that he is unrestrained. Truthfully, this was nothing like the Magitek Facility, but he couldn’t get the smell out of his head. His heart pounds in his ears and Prompto tries his best to breathe through the creeping panic. He is vaguely aware of the crownsguard raising a brow at him from where they stand between him and the window but doesn’t risk turning to look at them in case they notice his slitting eyes. There is a polite knock on the door and a tall lanky man walks in, Prompto catches a glimpse of the rest of his personal pack of guards standing outside the door before it closes. The doctor introduces themselves but Prompto is too busy trying not to visibly tremble he immediately forgets their name. They begin to explain that they are just going to perform a couple of X-Rays and run a few tests to make sure that he is healthy. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That didn’t sound too bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Prompto supposed weakly. Allowing himself to relax a little. He manages to stay still as the man takes his pulse and blood pressure and all of the basic health procedures, but he freezes up as the doctor holds up an empty syringe to take a sample of his blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, this will pinch just a little--” but the man doesn’t get a chance to finish because Prompto is already darting out of his seat and across the room and as far away from the man with the stupid fucking needle. The crownsguard in the room shouts something but the blond is too busy trying to fight back the vivid memories that flood his mind. The injections of plasmodium into his bloodstream that eat away at his humanity and sanity as it burns through his body, the faceless scientists uncaring of his screams as they jot down meaningless observations like he is nothing more than some experiment, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He is nothing but an experiment grown in a tube--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone grabs his arm and Prompto flinches, practically diving away as he growls lowly like a cornered dog. He bares his teeth, from where he has backed himself up into the corner and realizes that at some point during his freakout Cor had arrived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah, kid, hey,” the Immortal says, with his hands raised. “No needles, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at the taller man, chest heaving and eyes wide as he attempts to calm his breathing, “No needles,” Prompto agrees weakly, voice shaky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the appointment is… awkward. The doctor’s easy-going attitude in the beginning is replaced by a nervous one that is just waiting for something else to trigger the blond assassin. Prompto bites his lip as they do an X-Ray on his shoulder and tries to ignore the annoying buzz of the machine in his sensitive ears. The doctor pins the images to a light board and points out the injured area to the blond and recommends Prompto put his arm in a sling for the next couple of days but otherwise his surface wounds will heal by themselves and there is nothing else he can do for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a tense moment when they have to figure out what to do about the sling when his hands are still shackled together, but ultimately Cor just sighs and releases the cuffs and gives Prompto a glare that almost makes him whimper. He gets the message loud and clear; </span>
  <em>
    <span>run and you’re dead. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>From there Prompto’s ragtag group of angry crownsguard and Cor escort him to another interrogation room and plop him down in a considerably more comfortable chair than last time. Everyone but Cor leaves the room, but the immortal goes to stand in the corner of the room and not in the chair facing him so Prompto assumes the tall man isn’t going to be his interrogator this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blond sighs after a couple awkward minutes and begins to kick his feet in boredom, he wants to maybe ask Cor a stupid question to fill the suffocating silence but thinks that he would be ignored and imagines the silence after Prompto would ask the Immortal what his favorite dinosaur was and be met with silence would be even worse than the silence right now. So he stays quiet and tries his best to be patient.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>About ten more minutes pass, Prompto is entertaining himself by trying to find shapes in the dark stone walls around him, when the door opens. Clarus Amicitia enters first, broad shoulders fill the entire doorway and the man gives Prompto a severe once over that makes him shift in his seat awkwardly. Then, the shield moves farther into the room and another man walks in behind him and the assassin’s stomach drops. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because the King of Lucis just walked into the interrogation room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gulping, Prompto sits up straighter. Is he supposed to bow? Greet him with a ‘Your Highness’? Wait, Your Highness was for princes, wasn’t it? So… was the proper term ‘Your Grace’ or ‘Your Majesty’? Gods, the blond didn’t know and so he did the most stupid thing in his panic,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifted the hand that wasn’t in the sling and waved awkwardly, “Hey,” the blond says, smiling in a way he is sure is coming off as more of a grimace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>King Regis lifts a brow at the greeting and Prompto sort of wants the ground to swallow him up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning. Prompto, was it?” The king says, lowering himself stiffly to sit in the chair. Prom’s gaze zeros in on the Ring of Lucii that rests on the man’s middle finger, the darkness that still resides in his blood writhes at the close proximity to the crystal’s pure magic and he fights back an uncomfortable grimace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, yeah. M-my name is… er, Prompto. Prompto Argentum.” the blond stutters, behind him Cor snorts and he resists the urge to turn and glare at the man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>King Regis folds his hands in his lap primly, “During the autopsy of Titus Drautos we found General Glauca’s liquid armor. It appears you have done Lucius a favor, Mr. Argentum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, j-just Prom… Prompto is fine, sir.” the blond stutters, hunches his shoulder as Clarus glares at him from behind the king’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prompto,” the king agrees, smiling gently at him. There is something about the man’s aura that just screams kindness and Prompto feels the tightness in his stomach easing slightly at the calm comfort in the greying man’s blue eyes that are the exact shade of Noctis’s own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clarus tells me that you are part of the resistance group in Nifleheim known as Vanargard.”  the king continues and Prompto nods shakily. “Your arrival here is most… opportune, Prompto. We have been looking for a way to contact them in hopes of making an arrangement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of arrangement?” Prompto wonders, suspicious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regis smiles, “We would like to join forces and exchange resources to hopefully bring an end to Emperor Aldercapt’s rule and for there to finally be peace in Eos.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The assassin hesitates, “I can relay the memo, but I cannot guarantee you getting even a reply back. Aranea is… headstrong. She might not accept help, especially from foreigners.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand,” Regis agrees easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll need a radio,” Prompto says nervously. He battles with himself if he should actually contact Vanargard, but… but surely this is the right thing to do? Lucis can help and give them the supplies, money, and resources they need to finally put an end to this civil war, right? He just hopes this is the right decision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” the king says, “Oh, and another thing…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Prompto asks, nerves rising as the King’s demeanor becomes just slightly chilly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It has come to my attention that you are my son’s soulmate, Prompto.” King Regis states, resting both of his hands on his cane. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prom swallows thickly, staring at his lap, “I-I guess so.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you understand why I must ask if you intend any harm on Lucius or the Royal Family?” the greying man asks, face severe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises his head, “My goal is to take down the Niflheim Empire, if anything it would be in my worst interest to become an enemy of Lucis. Enemy of thy enemy is thy friend, right?” he smiles weakly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The king gives him a look he cannot read, “And why are you so determined to destroy the country of your birth?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grins with sharp teeth, “Let's just say those bastards have it coming,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regis smiles back, “I see… Well, thank you for meeting with me, Prompto.” the man stands shakily, leaning heavily on his cane. Prompto can practically see the ring siphoning the energy from him and watches as the man limps from the room with a pang of sadness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Your Majesty?” he hopes that is the right honorific as he calls out to the king before he leaves the room. The king and his shield both turn to look at him with raised brows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto smiles nervously, “Uh, well, it’s just… I promise that I won’t ever do anything to hurt Noc- uh, Prince Noctis. I know you have no reason to believe anything I say, but just… yeah,” he finishes lamely and his shoulder shike up to his ears as the king stares at him for a long moment without saying anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, King Regis smiles, “I am relieved to hear that,” and leaves the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slumps back into his seat with a sigh of relief and Cor comes to a stop next to his chair, “Come on, kid.” the Marshal says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” The blond wants to groan, it is barely ten in the morning and he just wants to go back to his cell and sleep. Fatigue weighs down his bones and his eyelids feel heavy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To a radio. C’mon, on your feet. Let’s go.” Cor urges, walking to the door without waiting for Prom to even get up and the blond has to race after him to keep up. The only people out in the hall are the group of guards that have been following Prom everywhere that morning and their little group makes their way through the labyrinth of hallways silently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you guys not get lost in here?” Prompto wonders exasperated as they turn into yet another hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Practice,” a female guard tells him with a smirk and the blond manages to smile back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, they make it to a small windowless room with an ancient radio covered in a layer of dust. Prompto walks up to the dinosaur of machinery and runs his finger along the thick dust dubiously, giving Cor an exasperated look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the best we got, kid. Don’t complain.” the Marshal growls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto snorts as he sits down in the swivel chair and begins to flip several loud switches and whirs loudly to life. Making sure everything is plugged in and ready to go before he reaches for the largest nozzle and begins to rotate through the channels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aesir, come in. This is Ullr,” Prompto spoke into the mic. He is vaguely aware of the guards in the room with him exchanging looks at the strange codenames. After a moment of static, he tries again, “Aesir this is Ullr, please come in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing. He moves onto the next frequency. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aesir, Ullr here, please come in. I repeat: Aesir, this is Ullr, please respond.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It goes that way for a long time. He tries over half a dozen frequencies and is met with no responses. He spins to the last channel he knows of and calls out into the mic. A moment of silence before the radio blares to life, “Well I’ll be, Prom! We was setting up a pool on whether you’d gone and kicked it!” a familiar accented voice said through the staticy speakers, “What took you so long to report in, you little shit? I’m gonna lose five hundred Gil cause of you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto smiles, he presses the button and speaks into the mic “Sorry to hear that, Leira. I… ran into a little bit of trouble.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a pause, “What d’ya mean? You got the job done, right? Don’t tell me ya’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>missed?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, he laughs. “I never miss,” he tells her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leira laughs, “Yeah, yeah, I know, you freak of science. What did you get yourself into this time?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got caught.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn kingsglaive got me,” Prompto tells her grimly. Gazing back at the Marshal you gives him an annoyed look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit </span>
  </em>
  <span>Prom, this a ransom note or somethin’? They holdin’ a knife to your throat right now?” she wonders, “Listen you Lucian pieces of shit, you hurt a hair on that pretty blond head and your fuckin’ dead, y’hear me?” she yells to the guards in the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I’m fine, just a few scrapes and bruises, nothing too bad.” He reassures her, “Actually, they asked me to contact you about something else. An… ah, beneficial relationship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his words, there is no answer and Prompto shifts in his chair nervously at the silence. Two minutes pass, with nothing but static in the speakers. Just as he is about to press the button on the mic to ask if there is something wrong a voice calls out and he grins at the familiar voice, even if they sound pissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prompto, this is Aranea. Explain.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know this like isn't canon but I'm basically naming everything in Niflheim after Norse Myths and stuff because I thought it would be cool and tie into their whole name cause Nifleheim is a Norse term that is basically Hell and is a land of ice and death and is ruled by the goddess Hel and I am a complete geek for that kind of stuff. Like Vanargand (that I accidentally wrote as Vanargard and now am too lazy to fix oops) is another term for Fenrir, the monstrous wolf and Prompto's codename is Ullr who is the god of the hunt and I thought that that fit in pretty well cause... he's a hunter lol <br/>Anywaaayyysss, I hope y'all liked this chapter and I promise Noct will be in the next chapter lol please tell me what you think! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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